


Please Don't Say You Love Me

by corinnemaree



Series: We're Just A Box Of Souvenirs [1]
Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Break Up, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their break up, Owen and Claire go over everything that went wrong, that went right; and why saying “I love you” tore them apart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Say You Love Me

Owen was gathering his things. They didn’t speak. He grumbled about a little, struggling through things and trying to determine what was his and what wasn’t. Claire sat on the bed, coffee in hand and staring down at her feet. It was awkward and the timing of them being there at the same time was unfortunate. Claire was tired of being around him; he was upset and so was she. He called it at the end of one argument, and they were officially broken up.

Claire and Owen were fine until they weren’t. They started to get angry at each; Owen more with Claire than the other way around. Claire could get frustrated with Owen most days and she knew she was cruel to him on her bad days. But it was Owen that finally broke, something that was always going to tear them apart and the guilt was striking deep in Claire’s chest. She sighed, setting her mug down and started towards the kitchen. 

Owen picked up a box and followed Claire, their pace was sheepish and they were tired of it all. Claire leaned up against the counter and watched Owen. He left his box with three others, all filled to the brim with clothes and other items. He turned towards Claire and she ran her hand through her hair; his gaze was too much to handle. 

“Let’s do this,” he said, sighing and placing his hands on his hips. 

“Do what?” 

“Talk about things, what happened to us,” he said, a frustrated bite on the inside of his lip. 

“You mean you want to argue,” Claire holded her arms and Owen shrugged.

“Do you?” he asked and as Claire contemplated for a moment, she nodded. 

“Yeah, a little,” 

“Then start,” he raised his brow, almost as though he was testing her. 

“Owen, I couldn’t speak to you when you got home from work,” she raised her voice as Owen rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not the one that shuts out everything. Claire, you are cold on your bad days and you took it out on me constantly,” he threw his hands in the air before stepping forward defiantly. “and, by the way, if this is home for you why I could never call it our apartment?” he asked and Claire finally spat back.

“I bought it!” 

“I live here too, Claire! I’ve lived here and wanted to put in for the rent but you’ve refused every fucking time!” Owen shouted and Claire huffed.

“Don’t yell at me!” 

“Claire, you wanted to argue,” Owen retorted, his voice was lower then. He was exhausted of having a fight when there wasn’t need for one. “I’m trying to fight for you and you are insistent on pushing me away,” he explained, disheartened and breaking. 

“I don’t want this to end,” Claire said softly.

“Say it,” Owen simply put it and Claire shot her gaze back up to his; tension and dread filling her veins. 

“Don’t. Not that again,” Claire sighed. She was tired of having this argument; but she gave him every right to have it coming back every time. 

“If you can’t say it then I’m going. They’re three words, Claire,” he asked her simply, stepping forward and Claire pushed off from the bench, stepping away from Owen and holding her hands behind her back. Her nails were scraping up her palm.

“But they weigh more than the world,” she said in a small voice. 

“That’s the point,” he said, reaching out to her softly.

“No,” she retorted back, her nail digging into her palm hard now. Owen threw his hands up, voice strong and raised. 

“Fucking christ Claire! Tell me you love me!” 

“No!” she yelled back painfully. Owen went tightlipped before turning on his heels.

“Fuck you, Claire,” he spat out, making sure it hurt her.

“Woah, really mature,” Claire scoffed and Owen charged back at her, hovering over her and tears welling up in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed and pain roamed the green fields of his eyes. 

“Claire! I’ve poured my heart out to you over and over again! I’ve cried my eyes out with you and told you things I’ve never told a soul! I can say three words that mean everything to us and suddenly you become non-responsive!” he gestured to her and Claire was choked up; her throat closing up and lip shaking. “I love you, and I always will but fuck, I have to draw a damn line. I can’t love you and want to marry you if you can’t fucking say you want the same!” Owen stopped himself, the small tremble in his bottom lip as he looked at Claire, waiting for something. Claire swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Owen, that’s not how it’s going to be, I just can’t,” she shook her head and Owen let out a shaky breath.

“I wish…” he said, stepping back from Claire and rubbing at his bottom lip. “I wish you had told me earlier. I’m sorry for forcing this,” he shook his head and Claire’s brow crinkled, stepping forward.

“Owen, you didn’t -” 

“Claire,” Owen stepped back again. “I’m just going to get my things,” he muttered, going back towards the bedroom. Claire stayed where she was, sitting on the couch as she heard Owen go back and forth between the bedroom and the front door. Eventually, he started gathering up his other belongings. 

Stepping awkwardly into the living room, Owen gave a soft chuckle. He went to the mantle above the fireplace, taking off the annoying seabass that had run out of batteries. He picked it up and smiled at it. Claire remember when he brought it home, that same smile on his lips; he remembered that day too. “Do you remember when we got this?” he asked, taking the bass from the mantle. Claire stood up, smiling timidly as she walked to him. 

“You got it and brought it home,” Claire laughed, biting into her lip. 

“I thought it would look nice,” Owen shrugged before Claire scoffed.

“It did but it’s awful.” 

Offering it to Claire, Owen held it out to her. “Do you want to keep it?” 

“What do you think?” Claire holder her arms and smiled at him. He sighed. 

“I wish we had more good days like that,” he admitted and Claire shook her head. 

“Owen, we did. Everyday was a good day,” she said, touching his arm before he recoiled slightly.

“Until you couldn’t -” 

“I’m sorry,” she apologised again. 

“I don’t know why I keep getting mad. It’s my fault,” he shook his head, tucking the bass underneath his arm and moving away from her. Claire sighed as she watched him walk away yet again. It was getting painful. 

Owen seemed to just be resting for a while, no moving about in the bedroom. Claire couldn’t blame him; it was a hard day for both of them. Claire took up two mugs of coffee, knocking before the door shifted open with the small knock. Sitting on the bed, Owen held a framed picture of them before laying it down on the sheets. It was on their second date; they kissed when they were on the pier and Owen managed to grab a sneaky shot. Claire loved it, just how happy they were; how far they had come.

“Claire, can I ask you something?” Owen asked, accepting the mug that Claire offered.

“Yeah,” she said before taking a sip. As Owen swallowed he kind of shrugged, awkwardly asking his next question.

“What was your favourite memory of us?”

Claire bit her lip, not sure what she should answer; she knew what it was, but she wasn’t quite sure where Owen was going. “What’s yours?” she asked.

“The first day of our vacation in Hawaii,” Owen sighed blissfully, smiling wide as he seemed to reminisce. Claire chuckled, resting up on the doorframe.

“We stayed inside the entire time,” she reminded but it didn’t need saying; they both knew.

“Only because it was raining,” Owen shrugged, smiling up at Claire. 

“And that was your favourite memory?” she asked, sipping at her coffee to give her cheeks an excuse to be flushing. 

“We stayed together, we talked, we had sex. You were so eager to just have a great vacation that you didn’t realise until the next day it was already fantastic,” Owen smiled then stared down at his mug, the steam rising and his sadness growing in his eyes again. She knew how to change that.

“When we got lost in Minnesota,” she said, smiling back at Owen. Her favourite memory was that trip; they were trying to visit Owen’s parents for Christmas and there was a sudden snowstorm that rolled in. 

“It was snowing,” Owen reminded and Claire nodded. 

“I love winter. And we thought the car was going to break down but we found that little inn. We stayed there all weekend and it was just perfect,” she said biting her lip and then Owen sighed.

“That was when I first said -” 

“I know,” she said, remembering it vividly. A chill rushed over her shoulders and she fought the urge to get teary. Owen huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. Placing his mug down, he gestured over to two boxes by the bed.

“I’m going to get the last of my boxes,” he cleared his throat, taking them and edging past Claire at the door. She stood awkwardly, her chest feeling weak and almost as though she was unable to stand. She used the door frame to hold her up before she set her coffee mug down and went out to see Owen finish packing the boxes into his car. 

He came to the door, unchaining a key from his keyring and handing it to Claire delicately. Their skin never touched. She didn’t remember what his skin felt like on hers anymore. She missed it,  _ craved _ it, and even though it was so close, it was so far out of reach. 

“So this is it,” Owen said softly and Claire shrugged. She stared down at his buckling knees. 

“I guess so,” she muttered back. 

“Claire, I can’t do this,” Owen huffed and Claire finally reached up, taking hold of Owen’s shirt.

“Then don’t, just come back inside and we’ll -” 

“I can’t see you anymore,” Owen interrupted quickly and Claire’s hands clenched tightly before letting go of Owen’s shirt. 

“You already said that,” she grumbled and Owen shook his head.

“I mean  _ ever _ ,” he said forcefully and Claire was biting hard into her cheek. “I’m going to break down if I see again and I just can’t,” he said through a breaking voice and his attention going towards the floor too.

“Right,” Claire swallowed.

“This is goodbye,” Owen said quietly and Claire nodded.

“Right,” she said. “Goodbye,” she said, clearing her throat. She felt his hand on the back of her neck and for a single moment she was hopeful. His skin was warm, tender and loving; even when he hated her so. His lips touched against her forehead, pressing to her skin timidly before he let himself embrace the goodbye. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips still pressed to her forehead. He gave one more desperate kiss before wrenching himself away. Claire was at a loss without him. She looked up, seeing his hand rise to his face then fall as he seemed to wipe something away from his eyes. He jumped into his car, not wasting a moment and drove off without looking back. 

“I love you too,” Claire breathed out, closing the door behind her and fell against the wood.

Claire broke, covering her mouth as she sobbed to her lonely apartment. Buckling down onto her knees, she cried loudly, not caring about the noise only about her fragile heart that was torn. She was too late; never able to say it to his face, never able to love him without saying it. Three small words, and they tore them apart. All because Claire couldn’t say it. She was too late. And he was gone. 


End file.
